


In the Heat of the Moment

by Hamyheikki



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Arguing, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamyheikki/pseuds/Hamyheikki
Summary: Yordles are finally able to walk among the people of Piltover without a glamour.These new changes are bound to cause  some friction.
Relationships: Kled/Heimerdinger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	In the Heat of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fic for this pair, and I am rather nervous, not gonna lie!  
> The prompt for this was "Heimer tending to Kled's injuries", and I figured a bar fight might be in order.  
> Idea came from a wonderful @https://antleredoctopus.tumblr.com/, if you are a Kledinger fan and are not following their art-content... I mean what are you even doing, mate? Get on that!

“Hey, professor? You need more bandages over there?”

Heimerdinger waved an arm up absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the delicate work his hands were sorting out. There were no more patrons in the tavern, and his voice carried out easily to the man standing behind the counter. “I think we should be alright for now Hans, thank you.”

“Understood.” The barkeep straightened his posture and lifted a broken chair up with his free hand. “I think I’mma go and dispose of these in the meantime.” With a knowing smirk, his gaze flickered to the battered yordle seated in front of the professor. “Just call out if you need anything else.”

Sighing, Heimerdinger raised his eyes for a quick glance. “Duly noted, and greatly appreciated as always, my friend.”

The man disappeared through the swing door, leaving the two yordles alone in the wrecked room. Chairs, tables, pieces of glass bottles covered the floor, tall wooden walls drenched in splashes of wine and beer. It would take a good scrubbing to get the stains out, not to mention the smell of it all. Heimerdinger grimaced when he saw the broken, bloodied window opening up to the main street. 

It would take a good amount of money as well.

“You do know you will have to pay for the damages, I hope.”

A grumbling huff he got as a response only spurred him onward. With a steady hand, he wrapped another round of gauze over the bleeding cut. “We are quite fortunate Hans isn’t going to press charges. Were we dealing with a more... ‘conservative’ entrepreneur, you might very well be in for a time in county jail.”

Another wordless mumble. Heimerdinger sighed.

“Kled, _please._ ”

“I ain’t sure what yer talkin’ about.” Without warning, Kled stood up, forcing Heimerdinger to step back. “That slack-jawed hole-brain was just as ‘guilty’ if ya ask me!”

“ _He_ didn’t instigate the brawl,” Heimerdinger said, reaching up to continue with the bandages. “Merely because you had a disagreement with the man -”

 _“Disagreement?”_ Heimerdinger’s hands were slapped off and he took yet another step away, allowing Kled to pace between him and the knocked-over table. It seemed wiser to maintain the distance for now. “If _that’s_ what ya city folks call a disagreement, I feel even more sorry for you than I already did!”

The unused rolls of gauze were set down. “You are making this a far more prevalent problem than it needs to be, my dear.”

“And yer acting like it’s all _nothin!”_ Kled exclaimed, his pacing continuing without a moment’s pause. “Letting that sack of stool throw mud at you and talk smack to your face! I was defending _your_ honour back there!”

Heimerdinger blinked. “I do not recall any mud being thrown -”

“It’s _an expression,_ ya brainiac!”

The following silence stretched out several minutes. Through the broken window, noises of the town’s night life still carried indoors, drowning out the rapid steps of Kled’s boots thumping against the floorboards. From the backroom, not a single sound was to be heard. Heimerdinger began to wonder if the barkeep had left them completely alone in his establishment. 

“... I dunno how ya can just sit and _take it.”_

The soft confusion intertwined with the words made Heimerdinger glance upwards to meet Kled’s gaze. Slowly, he backed up and eventually sat on one of the tables fortunate enough to have maintained its legs. With a gentle gesture, he motioned Kled to join him. 

His partner remained standing.

Heimerdinger closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before he began. 

“How long have you been living here in Piltover, Kled?”

The confusion in Kled expression grew. “Not sure... Guess somewhere around two moon circles.” 

“Right. And how long do you suppose _I_ have been living here?”

The piercing eye-contact was severed as Kled’s eyes darted downwards. “Longer.”

“Much longer, indeed.” Heimerdinger moved closer, shifting his seating until he was near Kled’s side, despite the fact that the other refused to sit with him. “Would you like to know why I have remained in the city, throughout the years?”

There was a nod. A slightly stiff one, but honest nonetheless. Kled, his moves still reluctant, finally settled down beside him. 

“I have stayed _because_ of the insults such as the ones you witnessed tonight.” 

Kled’s head snapped up. “Well now _that_ right there makes no goddamn sense!”

“And yet, to me it does.” His fingers found their way around Kled’s wrist, and he gave it a mild squeeze. “No matter how much we would wish it so, the truth of the matter is that this isn’t our city, Kled. Not in the way Bandle is.”

“A city’s a city,” Kled murmured. The grip of Heimerdinger’s fingers was answered in kind, Kled’s own hand rising to cover it. “You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

“So you keep claiming,” Heimerdinger said, his tone warm. “However, there is a distinct difference between these two particular settlements.”

He couldn’t help his smile upon seeing the sarcastic lift of Kled’s eyebrow. 

“Here, we are a minority. And a rather noticeable one at that.”

Kled frowned. “A _what?_ ”

“A minority. Meaning there are far less of us Yordles than, say, humans for example, living in Piltover.”

“... I thought we was talkin’ about the fistfight?” Kled tilted his head and the demonstrative sweep of his arm made Heimerdinger duck. “Ya sayin’ we are the underdogs?”

“Not as such, but we have a lot to prove in order for us to win over the other residents,” Heimerdinger said, dusting himself off after Kled’s arm passed. “And that is the reason I must stay. _And_ why I would be rather thrilled if you were to do so as well.”

Heimerdinger knew his request to be... Selfish, to say the least. He himself had lived among the various races of Runeterra long enough to know how harsh and full of tragedies a path towards acceptance could be. But for _him,_ there was no point in turning back now, to run all the way back to Bandle City. Piltover, with its trancing beauty as well as mix of occupants, were where his interest had taken hold. And where his work could very well be the key in smoothing down the path for others to come. 

He was not surprised when Kled didn’t remain seated.

_“The hell is wrong with ya?”_

“My dear, please be - ”

“Nah, I ain’t gonna quiet down,” Kled growled, his eyes gaining a layer of lucid temperament Heimerdinger hadn’t often witnessed. “Yer tellin’ me, to my _face,_ that we’re supposed to reel ourselves back for these fuckers here? To roll over and reveal our bellies in the hopes of _maybe_ someday gaining a decent ground to snivel on?” 

Heimerdinger frowned. He rose from his seat as well. “You are twisting my words, and you know it.”

“What? We’re just gonna _submit,_ let ‘em hold the reins?” Kled snarled, his eyes piercing. “Ain’t that all you’ve been doing so far?” 

The question was curt, the tone of it intentionally sharp. 

It made Heimerdinger halt.

“... I have made discoveries here. Things I could have _never_ achieved back home -”

Kled crossed his arms over his chest. “For what?”

One slow step back, and Heimerdinger was leaning once more against the table. “Countless lives have improved upon my arrival. _My_ inventions have shaped this very city!”

“Yeah, but for _what?_ ” Kled stepped forward, the sheet of cold melting away from his gaze as he stood close. “Sure the townsfolk' are better off these days. But _you_ ain’t.”

A steady hand rose, a fist a moment ago, reaching out. The gentle pressure on Heimerdinger’s shoulder made him slump closer to his partner.

“There has been progress. Just now, I am able to move about without a glamour in place.”

“Cecil, you’ve been living here for _decades._ ”

Without him noticing it, Heimerdinger’s head nodded downwards, his forehead gracing the leather of Kled’s armor. The scent, the mere feel of it, was enough to ease the growing pressure nesting inside his heaving chest. 

He let a deep sigh escape.

“... Provoking confrontation plunges the city into chaos.”

Kled’s hold tightened. “Backin’ down gets us killed.”

The rhythmic ticking of a grandfather’s clock by the bar counter was the only thing breaching the silence, the constant beat calming the air inside the tavern. The conversation would continue, another day. To be brought up again once they were truly alone, in the privacy of Heimerdinger’s lab. In the hushed room, the two of them leaned against each other, Kled bearing most of their shared weight. 

The sound of a quiet cough brought the reality back to them with a rush. From behind the counter, Hans offered them an apologetic grin.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, lifting two glasses onto the tabletop. “Got the chairs sorted out, already put in an order for the new ones as well.” He looked up from the counter, his eyes shifting between them. “You two gents in for another pint or three? Didn’t exactly get a chance to finish your first ones.”

The two yordles shared a look, Heimerdinger merely lifting a questioning eyebrow to his partner. A bit confused, Kled tugged the drooping professor firmly to his side. 

A reassuring arm wrapped itself around his own waist in return.

“... What’cha got, barkeep?”

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback and critique is always appreciated! <3


End file.
